


between long nights (and daydreams)

by NCTbot



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Dancer Jeno, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Polyamory, Ships to be added - Freeform, misplaced feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14191434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCTbot/pseuds/NCTbot
Summary: This is all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever dreamed of and never let himself hope for. He sucks in a deep breath and moves to take a step forward. “Hurry up kid, get your stuff I really don’t have all day unless you’re paying.”His thoughts are cut off by the taxi driver, and he startles, grabbing his bag from the seat he had sat up from.Jeno is left standing in the street, right next to the curb, worn out luggage bags at his feet.





	between long nights (and daydreams)

The air shifts around Jeno as his feet hit the hot asphalt of the road. There’s a feeling in his stomach that his entire life has led up to this one moment, but that’s absurd because the air smells like burned gasoline and there is a fly that is circling his head. It’s not the environment that makes his heart start to rise up into his throat, but the situation. Jeno’s head turns upward, eyes glistening in wonder as he looks at the buildings in front of him. The campus is beautiful, nothing less than one would expect from the prestigious performing arts school that is S.M University.

 

This is all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever dreamed of and never let himself hope for. He sucks in a deep breath and moves to take a step forward. “Hurry up kid, get your stuff I really don’t have all day unless you’re paying.”

 

His thoughts are cut off by the taxi driver, and he startles, grabbing his bag from the seat he had sat up from. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll hurry.” He says and moves to the back to remove his luggage from the trunk of the car. His heart is beating faster now, but now because of the anxiety of needing to rush. The moment the trunk shuts the taxi driver speeds away, and Jeno is left standing in the street, right next to the curb, worn out luggage bags at his feet.

 

* * *

 

 

Jeno has been dancing since he was young. As soon as he was able to hold his own weight up with his two feet, he was using them to tap along to the music. Now, his family didn’t have much. His mom worked one 9-5 job during the week, and as a bartender on the weekends, and sometimes she would do odd jobs, not getting home until far past the time he and his brother went to sleep. His dad was the same, working as a mechanic at a shop down the road, and as a substitute teacher when he could get the job.

 

They had a small apartment, with two bedrooms, one cramped kitchen, and something that could resemble a living room. Jeno shared a room with his brother, and his parents used the other. They walked to school, only living a few blocks from it, and when he was lucky, his mom would have enough time to take them.

 

His family didn’t have much, and despite their humble lifestyle, they got him a small laptop, for his brother and him to share. They couldn’t afford to send him to a dance class, and they wouldn’t have the time to go with him, but it was the next best thing they could do. His grandmother, a spry woman in her late 50's takes over helping him learn how to dance, as she had once. His love for dancing, and by extension music only grew as he did, and by the time he reached his teens, he was copying videos he had seen groups like Shinee and Exo perform, even dancing along to some of SNSD’s content.

 

* * *

 

 

Jeno sat his bags down on one of the empty beds in the dorm room. It was bare, all white, and it smelled like cleaning products had been used a while ago, the scent of bleach barely there. He sat down next to his bags, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He didn’t sleep on the twelve-hour plane ride from L.A to Seoul, had been up for four hours before he even got on the plane, and had been sat in the taxi for an hour after an hour in the airport. Needless to say, he’s tired down to his bones. He plugs his phone into the wall first. It had died 8 hours into the flight, and he's sure his mom must be freaking out trying to contact him.

 

He takes a few minutes to survey the room again, nothing has changed, obviously, but the more he looks the more excited he gets. This is his, he’s going to be able to hang a poster or two, make friends with his roommate, and start a new chapter of his life. Jeno flops back onto the bed, eyes glancing to the clock the had plugged in, bleary eyes reading that it’s nearing three as he drifts off into a deep sleep, legs still hanging off the bed.

 

* * *

 

 

When Jeno turned 15 he decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his life when he stumbled upon a video of an SM graduate who had gone there under scholarship. He had always known he loved dancing, but never really let himself imagine that he had the chance to make it anything more than a hobby. He was already learning everything on his own, practicing outside in the basketball court, or in the school’s gym when he could manage to sneak in. There was just no way he’d be able to afford going to a school dedicated to an art that may not even work out.

 

Yet hearing the girl talk about how she herself had learned on her own until she was in her mid-teens, and still made it into the school, all expenses paid, he knew he’d have to try. They only give out three a year, but it applies to anyone in the world, so he had a chance, even if it was slim. From that point on, his whole life became performing. He even started to stay after school with the music instructor to get better at playing the piano and violin. A natural, possibly prodigy level at them, his teacher had said. He stayed up late to do homework he neglected in favor of practice, and still managed to help take care of his brother.

 

His mother was hesitant when he had told her he was applying for a school across the ocean, in a place where he wouldn’t know anyone. She would have said no if he was any less passionate about the subject.

 

His audition had to be taped, as there was no representative that was coming to L.A that year, so he shelled out money he had been saving for a good quality camera. He’d come this far, he wasn’t risking his chance because of low-quality tapes. He performed two dance pieces and one piece of music for each violin and piano. He choreographed both the hip-hop and ballet routines he decided on but chose his instrument pieces based on difficulty.

 

Part of the process for applying for the scholarship was a letter, this year’s prompt was to choose why one’s specialty meant enough to them to desire attending the school. Jeno wrote a lot about expression, and probably divulged a touch too much about how dancing and his instruments helped him come to terms with who he is as a person, but in the end, it did him well. A month before his graduation he received the packet, stamped with the pink logo of the school, detailing his acceptance, and his winning of the scholarship. He even got a call from the Dean of Admissions, so everything for his arrival could be put together. They even paid for his flight out to Seoul, listing it as part of his school necessities.

 

* * *

 

 

Jeno was woken up by the door to the room being shut and the sounds of something being dragged along the floor. His startled, body shooting up off the bed.

 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” The person who had entered said. Jeno rubbed his eyes, blinking away the sleep so he could actually see the person. He had a soft looking face, and he held his hand out to Jeno with a grin. “Donghyuk, I’m pretty sure we’re roommates.”

 

Jeno pushes himself off the bed, back protesting, knees cracking as he stood up fully. It had been a bad idea to fall asleep without properly getting into bed it seems. He shook Donghyuk’s hand, giving him a smile back. “Jeno,” He supplied, and he felt that they would be great friends.

 

Donghyuk raises an eyebrow, head tilting to the side, “Are you from around here?” He asks, pointing to his mouth, signifying he was questioning Jeno’s accent.  

 

Jeno shakes his head, “No, I’m from the United States, Los Angeles. I just got here a few hours ago actually.” He said, and he looked around, he needed to call his mom.

 

“That’s amazing, I’m from Jeju, not as far but, also not from here,” he says, and it comforts Jeno a bit. It may not be halfway around the world like for Jeno, but he’s out of place as well. He gives Donghyuk a more thorough look, he’s in a sweater, and a pair of sweatpants. He looks comfortable, and when Jeno looks at his bags, they look similar to his own. A little frayed and worn out, and one of the bags is missing a wheel. Donghyuk looks at his bag, and shoves it behind him, scratching his neck.

 

Jeno knows what it is, and he turns to his own bags. “Since we’re going to be roommates,” He starts, and takes some of his clothes out, and giving Donghyuk a tentative smile as he puts it in his small dresser, “Do you want to go get food, get to know each other some?” He asks, “After I call my mom, she might be freaking out cause my phone died.”

 

Donghyuk smiles, his own eyes flicking to Jeno putting his things away, and he moves to do the same. Neither have asked the other about it, whether or not their assumptions are correct, but they’ve come to an unspoken understanding. They won’t ask, not today, because they know. Of course, the school would pair two of the scholarship students together, and Jeno can’t help but wonder if there’s a third this year.

 

Jeno ends up stepping out of the building to call his mom, and he sits on one of the benches. He almost cries when she tells him about how worried she was, and that she misses him already. She talks for nearly 20 minutes before he feels the water droplets his nose, and has to hang up before he gets soaked to the bone. He promises to call as often as possible, and with a warning not to miss any classes, the call is over. It feels too soon, and the weight of the situation rests on chest. It’s not exactly suffocating, but he finds it difficult to move himself off of the bench, eyes stinging from unshed tears still. He won’t see his family for at least half a year, and he needs to take a long breath to focus on the fact that he’s following his dreams.

 

He has to force himself up when he feels the rain start to actually soak his clothes, and when he walks back into the dorm Donghyuk is hanging up a poster. “Do you mind?” He asks, and Jeno responds with a shake of his head.

 

“No, I have quite a few things to put up myself,” He mumbles, admiring some of the things that Donghyuk has already put up. A few photos on his desk, and a blanket that’s polka dotted on the bed. His own is covered in a floral print, he had taken it from his parents room and left them with his own.

 

“Need any help?” He asks Donghyuk, pulling off his wet jacket and placing it on the ground next to his bed. He has a great feeling about this, despite the worry that seems to have tied itself around his sternum.

 

* * *

 

 

Jeno had to say goodbye to his friends the night before his flight, not expecting them to get up at 3 a.m and go to the airport with him. Not even his family was going to go with him, his parents had to work, and if they weren’t going, neither was his little brother. He kept it small, he never had many friends, to begin with. They ended up meeting him at his house, his mom making his favorite dinner, and giving them time in the living room. They ended up giving him going away gifts; a new dance outfit from Yeri (“Stay stylish and in touch in Seoul”), a book bag from Sanha (“I refuse to let you lug around that ugly old black one in Seoul”), and a small teddy bear and manga from Chan (“So your flight is comfortable, I know you have a tense back.”).

 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t cry when all the fun was done and it was time for the actual goodbyes, and for his friends to go home. Sanha had to go first, his parents had to have him home for something with his grandmother, and they both teared up as they hugged and promised to see each other again and keep in touch. Yeri and Chan both left an hour later, Yeri hanging behind for a moment to kiss him on the cheek and tell him he was making the right decision. He didn’t even tell her his worries that he was making a mistake with this, and that’s when the tears really came.

 

After they were gone, promises of staying in touch keeping them tied together, he went back inside and did his goodbyes with his family. They didn’t want to make him stay up too late, so they each gave him their own sentimental words, a tight hug, and a wish of good luck for him where he was going.

 

It felt like it went by too fast, and too slow at the same time when he laid down to try and sleep. It took him an hour to fall asleep, tossing and turning, the seed of doubt and worry at what was to become official in just a few hours not letting him get rest. Jeno finally ended up drifting off when he put on piano music, a recording he had taken a few weeks back of a soothing piece.

 

The morning didn’t give him time to get upset at leaving, filled with the rush to grab anything he may have forgetting when he originally packed and making sure he had his card if he had an emergency. His parents may not have had much, but they had the foresight when they had found out they’d be having a kid to start saving money for school, and because he got a scholarship, all the money they saved for him was designated for anything he needed while he was there.

 

Jeno had given his parents one more kiss, and a group hug, then he was off. He was in the cab, on the way to the airport, tickets safely tucked in his jacket pocket as he watched the sky, sun not even up yet. He rested his head on the window, ignore the way it made him feel like he was vibrating.

“Everything is going to work out,” Jeno mumbled to himself, hand slipping into his pocket to grip the tickets.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think so far, and you can find me on twitter @hqnctbot


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